The Lonely Death Scythe
by GenderNeautral
Summary: Time passes and sometimes people move on.


There is a rumor that is whispered around Death City. A rumor that every Monday at 11 P.M. a black figure can be seen sitting on top of the main gates of the city, sharpening a knife while humming a sorrow-filled tune. The figure is rumored to be a demon, waiting to devour any stray wanderers that walk around past midnight.

"Death's Right-Hand" as they call it.

Sounds like a children's fairy tale, right? A horror story told to little kids to keep them from wandering around too late at night.

Well, then explain why on a particularly cloudy Monday night Lord Death himself could be seen on top of the main gates with a shadowed figure sitting by Lord Death's right side.

"Of all the habits to pick up, you had to pick one of the worst ones couldn't you… Soul," Lord Death said in a monotone voice.

"And you seem to suddenly lose that cheerful, and fake, tone whenever you talk to me Lord Death," Soul shot back, taking another long drag from his cigarette.

"You should be grateful you know, not even my own son has heard me speak so freely," Lord Death reminded the scythe weapon, pinching the cigarette out from the young man's lips and crushing it between his comically large white hands.

"I'll express my undying gratitude once a new Death Scythe is made and I can finally retire from this job. If you had told me how much work this would have been then I wouldn't have tried so hard to become one," Soul remarked, looking at the crushed cigarette in pity.

"Perhaps your wish will come much sooner than later," Lord Death said solemnly.

The rule of Death City had to admit, Soul Eater has been the most powerful weapon he has had the pleasure of wielding in the past few centuries. The white-haired weapon did his job well and did them quickly. The addition of black blood in the young man's body was a welcoming touch as well since it allowed the death god to study it at a much deeper level.

"She's coming, back isn't she?" Soul asked, lighting another cigarette between his lips and this time the death god did nothing to put it out.

"Yes, yes she is," Lord Death answered quietly, "and you'll be expected to attend the ceremony."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. If it wasn't mandatory that the red-headed drunk-ass probably wouldn't have shown up to pass me the torch," Soul responded in a nonchalant tone, "But don't expect me to stick around for the dance after. I'll most likely be a few hundred miles into the Nevada desert."

"Do you have a destination in mind?" Lord Death asked.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll go see what Blackstar and Tsubaki are up to in Japan," Soul shrugged, "I've got the whole world to explore and the clearance level to do it."

Lord Death couldn't help but chuckle at the remark. Soul Eater, one of the most powerful Death Scythes in history and the clearance level to rule an entire nation, wanted nothing but to use his political power to travel the world without being bothered.

"Then I shall leave you to keep watch. Please make an effort to arrive early for the final rehearsal," Lord Death told the Death Scythe, only to receive a silent salute and nothing else.

Soul watched the black moon, listening to the fading sound of his meister's footsteps.

"Saturday could not come and go as faster," Soul sighed into the wind as he continued to guard the gates of Death City.

**Time Skip: Saturday**

The crowning of the new Death Scythe ceremony went off without a hitch. The new Death Scythe, Victory "Tory" Stephenson, gladly accepted his new position as Lord Death's personal weapon and his meister, Maka Albarn, was awarded the title of "Greatest Meister" for producing two Death Scythes within seven years in her career.

Soul clapped along and drifted through the entire ceremony until Lord Death came onto the stage for the last time and yelled "Time to Party!"

That was his queue to quietly leave.

Luckily, Soul had thought to plan ahead of time and packed everything the night before onto his motorcycle. All he had to was change out of the stuffy suit and ride off into the moonlit desert. Lord Death already knew that he was leaving, and he had said his goodbyes to the few friends he had left in the city earlier that week.

If it was only that easy.

To be honest, Soul was surprised that he even made it all the way to the main gate of the city before she caught up with him. The irony was so huge that he wondered if she had purposefully called out to him at the main gates.

"SOUL!"

Ah, there was that familiar high-pitched female voice.

"Sup?" Soul replied, killing his engine after turning his bike around so that he could talk to her face to face.

Maybe he shouldn't have.

She stood there in all her commanding glory. Maka Albarn, his first meister and the only person he had shown his all to.

"Sup? Is that all you have to say after five years?" Maka asked angrily, "Why did you leave after the ceremony without saying anything?"

"Lord Death knows already," Soul replied, "and are you seriously asking why I didn't bother to approach you? I thought you were the smart one out of the two of us."

That seemed to catch the female meister off guard as the memories flooded back in her mind and she finally realized where she was standing.

"Soul…" Maka trailed off, all the anger vanishing as weariness settled on her face.

"You don't have to explain Maka, I figured it out a long time ago. I'm just glad that you're doing well," Soul told his previous meister as he started his engine back up, "I'll see you around Maka."

With that Soul drove off into the desert, heading towards Las Vegas where he had an apartment, he had shipped most of his belongings to. He didn't look back. He couldn't. Not because he didn't want to but because if he did then he would see the expression on Maka's face and his resolve to move on would crumble into a million pieces.

This was a fresh start for Soul Eater, and he was determined to keep it that way.

No more heartaches and bad memories.

No more pain and sorrow.

No more Old Soul Eater.

Finally… no more Maka Albarn.


End file.
